Bivium
by pellaz
Summary: A story about the affairs of love, hate, and reincarnation, and the relationship between Haruhiko and his Earth ESPer protector, Mikuro. Shounen-ai, spoilers for Rin and Haruhiko's past incarnations, Episodes 4-6.


  
  
  
  
Bivium  
  
A Please Save My Earth fanfic  
  
Mikuro gently flexed his left elbow, grimacing as he felt the lingering soreness and stiffness in the joint. Not for the first time in the past hour or so he cursed that brat, S-kun or Shion or whatever else he liked to be called. The kid had been vicious! Mikuro was more than a little smug about that. S-kun'd not only been vicious, he'd been powerful, and while Mikuro had always prided himself on being a strong ESPer, he'd never before had the chance to pit his powers against another one. He'd never thought his first battle would be against an elementary school kid, but you couldn't get everything--and besides, he'd survived. He'd survived his first psychic battle--and against an alien, at that. *Not bad, "M-kun,"* he told himself, smirking.  
  
He shifted his position so that he was leaning against the wall, and glanced down at the man sitting beside him. Tamura's hands were clasped beneath his chin and his eyes were on a point far down the hall; ICU, which they weren't allowed in. They'd taken Haruhiko in there. Haruhiko.... Mikuro pursed his lips. Another alien, but he was glad to note that Haruhiko was nothing like S-kun. That docile nature probably came from his heart problems--lucky that Mikuro had known excessive usage of his powers would only result in an early grave--and while it was better than S-kun's derangement, Mikuro didn't approve. Someone that nice couldn't possibly make it in this world, especially when one had S-kun for an enemy. Haruhiko didn't seem like he was going to change, though.  
  
Leaning against the wall was uncomfortable. Mikuro straightened and ran an absent hand through his hair; it was sweaty and clung to the back of his neck. He took a better look at himself. His shirt, even though it was dark, had splatters of blood on it, and his jeans were ripped and torn in places. He'd probably have to get new sneakers, too. With a sigh that was purely mental, Mikuro turned to the vigilant Tamura and waved his hand in front of that stern mafia face to get his attention.  
  
Tamura's eyes slid over to him. "Yeah?" he said shortly.  
  
Mikuro gestured to himself. "I'm going to go get a change of clothes," he informed Tamura. "Don't worry, I'll be back in a few." He began to brace himself for a teleportation, then hesitated. "Hey," he said.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Do me a favor, would you? Call my brother and tell him I'm sorry I couldn't make it to dinner. We were supposed to meet somewhere."  
  
Tamura nodded. "Sure. Hey--Mikuro," he said when Mikuro turned away. "I haven't thanked you yet. For helping Haru-chan...."  
  
His back to him, Mikuro smiled and shook his head. "He's like me," he said. "I couldn't just let that brat S-kun kill him." Tamura opened his mouth to say something back, but Mikuro teleported away without listening.  
  
****  
  
As usual, when he teleported into it, his apartment was dark; he didn't have the money to waste energy, and besides, he was hardly ever here anyways. He ate and slept here, but other than that, it was just a matter of having a place to keep clothing and junk so you could teleport in, get them, and teleport back out.  
  
He intended to take it a bit more slowly this time, though. His injuries were hurting a bit more than he'd counted on; using his powers too quickly would only aggravate them. Mikuro walked into his kitchen, not bothering to switch on the lights in there, and grabbed a can of juice from the refrigerator, then went to his bedroom and turned on the lights with a thought. He rummaged around in his closet for a clean change of clothing and found another pair of jeans and a tank top. The tank top showed off his bandages, but he was in a hospital; it wasn't like anyone cared. His sneakers squelched with water, but there wasn't anything he could do about that.  
  
Mikuro tilted his head back and took a long drink of the juice. It was gone in two more gulps. He teleported it into a trash can and walked back into the kitchen to hunt for something to eat.  
  
"I really need to stop depending so much on take-out," he muttered to himself, holding up a bag of moldy lunch meat. "I guess I'll just have to get something at the hospital."  
  
The phone rang before he could throw away the meat. He levitated it over to him and picked it up, drawling, "Moshi moshi."  
  
"Mikuro?" He recognized Tamura's voice and balanced the phone more steadily on his knee.  
  
"Yeah, it's me. How'd you get my number?"  
  
"Yakushimaru told me."  
  
"Yakushimaru...." Mikuro huffed slightly. "I'm going to have to talk to him about that."  
  
"Don't. I threatened bodily harm on him if he didn't tell me what it was. Haru-chan's out of ICU and they're saying he's going to be okay. But he wants to see you."  
  
"Is that so?" Mikuro raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"  
  
"Maybe because you saved his life?" Tamura said sarcastically. Well. Mikuro hadn't thought he had it in him.  
  
"Hmm. Okay, I'll be right over. Room number 501, right?"  
  
"How'd you...?" Tamura trailed off. "Never mind. I don't really want to know. Hurry up, Mikuro." He hung up.  
  
Smiling slightly, Mikuro set the phone back in its cradle.  
  
****  
  
He teleported back to Room 501 and nearly gave Tamura a heart attack.  
  
"Don't do that!" the older man hissed when he'd regained his composure. "Someone might see you!"  
  
Mikuro shrugged. "Let them. Maybe then everyone will take ESP more seriously." He gestured to the door. "Can I go in?"  
  
Tamura nodded. "Yeah. Don't take too long, or they'll chase you out with a needle."  
  
He teleported into the room deliberately. The lights were dim, a lamp by the bed the only light, but he could still see Haruhiko sitting up in bed, staring directly at him. Aside from various bandages and a few tubes in his arms, he didn't look too bad. Mikuro found that that made him feel better.  
  
"M-kun, right?" Haruhiko said quietly.  
  
Mikuro smiled, moving into the light so that the dark-haired boy could get a better look at him; he doubted Haruhiko had been really looking when they'd been trying not to get themselves killed. "My name is Mikuro," he told him, "but I found that M-kun was more appropriate." Mikuro raised an eyebrow. "Sorry for our mysterious first meeting. I imagine both you and S-kun were perplexed."  
  
"Yeah....." Haruhiko's eyes slid to the window, then back to him. "Thank you for helping Tamura-san," he said.  
  
Mikuro shrugged. "It was fun."  
  
Haruhiko's lips twitched. "Even so," he said, "you could have been killed." He paused and looked down at his hands, guilty. "I hate dragging innocent people into these sorts of things...."  
  
"I'm hardly innocent." Mikuro found it odd that Haruhiko seemed so hung up on that; he'd said it on the roof, as well, begging S-kun to kill him and spare them. "And I wasn't 'dragged.' I'm an ESPer. I thought it'd be fun to test myself against another...." He trailed off; Haruhiko was looking at him oddly.  
  
"Is that what it was?" he whispered. "He almost killed you because you wanted to see how powerful you were?"  
  
"That's a good part of it, yes," Mikuro said, wondering what he'd said that had Haruhiko looking so upset. "Of course, my brother asked me to help Tamura. He wouldn't have if it hadn't been important to him."  
  
"You're fond of your brother?" Haruhiko murmured.  
  
Mikuro shrugged.  
  
"Shion--S-kun--would have killed him to get to you, if he'd known who you were," Haruhiko said flatly.  
  
Mikuro smiled at him. "That's why I was extra careful to make sure he didn't know who I was."  
  
Haruhiko sighed. "I'm sorry. I just asked to see you to tell you I was grateful for your help. Now I'm keeping you...."  
  
"On the contrary." Mikuro leaned against the bedside desk and folded his arms casually. "I find it interesting to talk to you, Haruhiko. I meant what I said. Too much teleporting is bad for your health. You teleported to get to us in time, didn't you?"  
  
Haruhiko's eyes grew bright, but he only said, "Yes."  
  
Mikuro looked at the heart monitor and nodded. "I was frequently ill as a child because I overextended myself. I could have ended up like you if I hadn't realized I needed to pace myself. Now, it would be quite a blow to Tamura if you were to die because of something so foolish. My brother is on good terms with Tamura; it would upset him as well. And I would be upset because you're a very interesting person, as well as a fellow ESPer. Is this enough incentive for you to stop using your powers foolishly?" he asked.  
  
"I'll use my powers to help those I care about," Haruhiko responded, sounding curt.  
  
"Fair enough," Mikuro said. *Damn. Why am I wasting my time on this kid anyway? He's got a martyr complex a mile wide.* He knew what it was, though. Seeing S-kun using his powers like that, so savagely, to try and kill Haruhiko---it wasn't something he'd forget soon. And this kid just cried out for protection; so weak and kind. He shook his head. "I wish you luck, Haruhiko." He turned away.  
  
"Mikuro..... Matte."  
  
Mikuro glanced over his shoulder. Haruhiko was leaning out of bed with an arm extended toward him, his eyes pleading. "Shion will find you if he gets out of the hospital," Haruhiko said. "He'll kill you. Please...." He covered his face with his hands and shook his head wordlessly.  
  
"I'm not the one that needs to be protected," Mikuro told him quietly. "The same goes for Tamura. Call me if you need me again, or if you--" He paused and quirked his lips. "Or if you just want some reassurance that S-kun hasn't tied me up and gutted me while you were busy."  
  
Haruhiko looked up, his eyes shining.  
  
"Here." Mikuro fumbled in his pockets and pulled out a piece of paper. He put his name and phone number on it, then put it in Haruhiko's hand and folded the dark-skinned boy's fingers over it. "That's my number," he said, nodding at it. "I'll be around. See ya."  
  
"Mikuro--" Haruhiko began to speak, to try to argue with him, but his hand dropped back to the ground when Mikuro teleported away before he could finish. He brought the paper to his chest and looked at it. Mikuro's script was small and precise, flawless; he recognized it from the note. That note.... he'd tried to help him, even then.  
  
"I won't let him hurt you or Tamura-san again," he said to the air, squeezing his eyes shut. "Somehow, I won't let him hurt you."  
  
****  
  
The phone rang for the fifth time. Mikuro looked up, annoyed, and realized that this caller was not easily going to be deterred. With a sigh, he put down his book and ambled into the kitchen to look at the caller ID.  
  
The name on the little machine was familiar. "Kasama....." he murmured to himself, tapping his chin. The phone rang on. "Kasama, Kasama, Kasama...." He frowned. Kasama.... Kasama Haruhiko? Quickly, he picked up the phone.  
  
"Hai, Mikuro desu."  
  
"M-Mikuro?" It *was* Haruhiko's voice, nervous and diffident, with a definite quaver to it.   
  
"Haruhiko?"  
  
"Hai!" Haruhiko sounded relieved. "Um--I'm sorry to bother you--you remember me, right?"  
  
Mikuro rolled his eyes at the air. "Baka," he said. "If I hadn't remembered you I wouldn't have picked it up. Problems with S-kun?"  
  
"Um... no, not exactly. You.... know who I am, right?"  
  
"Besides an ESPer?" Mikuro shrugged. "What I got was that you're a space alien reincarnated in a human's body, as is S-kun--which is probably why he's so well-trained at eight years old....." he said thoughtfully.  
  
"That's right. Anou..... there are six others. I---" Haruhiko took a deep breath. "Tamura-san's out of town," he said, and Mikuro heard a sound; a sob, quickly stifled.  
  
"Whatever. The phone isn't a good place to talk. I'll come get you."  
  
"But you don't know where I--"  
  
Mikuro teleported.  
  
Haruhiko blinked at him with tear-filled eyes, which caused one of them to slide down his face. Mikuro looked around himself; Ueno Park in spring had always been a lovely sight. He wasn't surprised Haruhiko had come here to try and calm himself down.  
  
"You don't look so good," Mikuro said.   
  
Haruhiko blinked again, then laughed shakily and wiped his eyes. "I guess not," he said.  
  
"Come on, then." Mikuro scanned for and found an empty bench. He gestured with his thumb. "Talking about your problems under the sakura trees is the best solution, some say," he said as they sat down on the bench. He crossed his legs and sprawled out, but Haruhiko hunched in on himself, staring at the ground. "Well, let's talk," Mikuro continued. "I'll be more interested if it's about ESP, but I figure that's not it."  
  
Haruhiko looked at him. "You're awfully...." he said after a pause. "Nice." Then he blushed. "G-gomen, I didn't mean to imply that--"  
  
Mikuro smiled wryly. "I can be a nice guy when I want to," he said. "Would a not-nice guy help Tamura for no other reason that he asked me to? A lot of people get the wrong impression of me because I happen to think I'm above them because I have ESP."  
  
Haruhiko blinked.  
  
"That was a joke."  
  
"Oh...."  
  
****  
  
"Seven scientists on a moon base...." Mikuro murmured, and Haruhiko nodded. "And you've all met each other in this lifetime. And relationships are a bit strained between you and them?"  
  
Haruhiko nodded. "I shouldn't even be telling you this," he said, folding in on himself. "But--Tamura-san is out of town and I--I just couldn't be alone. I'm so selfish," he whispered, closing his eyes.  
  
"S-kun has it in for me," Mikuro shrugged. "I might as well know why, hmm? I knew the abbreviated version, of course, but this is much more interesting."  
  
"Yeah...." Haruhiko looked away. Something was at the corner of his vision, but he couldn't quite pin it down.  
  
****  
  
Mikuro teleported into the public library, elicting a wide-eyed stare from the girl he ended up next to. He gave her a polite smile and sat down at one of the computers.  
  
"Reincarnation," he said to himself, typing it in.  
  
"Since when are you interested in reincarnation, M-kun?"  
  
His first impulse was to freeze, but he quelled that weak part of him mercilessly and continued typing. He glanced over at the child standing next to him lazily. "I've always been interested in it, S-kun," he replied casually, and brought up one of the titles as if a psychotic eight-year-old ESPer wasn't standing next to him looking for all the world like a snake about to pounce.  
  
"*Liar*," S-kun said. A smile lit up his face. "I think you got interested around the time you had that little talk with my friend Shuukaido--oh, I'm sorry, Haruhiko. Around three o'clock today, right?"  
  
"You were following us," Mikuro said. *Damn it, how could I not have noticed?* "Angry that Haruhiko talked to me? I already knew about it."  
  
S-kun waved his hands dismissively. "Our affairs are private," he said. "Not to mention the fact that you put me in the hospital, M-kun. You think I wouldn't come after you?"  
  
"No," Mikuro said, "I was counting on it." He smiled. "You're rather predictable, S-kun."  
  
The child scowled. "Outside," he hissed, "or I'll have to blow up this building."  
  
"We wouldn't want that, would we?" Carefully, Mikuro wrote down two authors' names and put the piece of paper in his pocket, then shut down the computer. He turned to S-kun. "Let's go."  
  
****  
  
A psychic blast slammed into him just as he came out of the teleportation, and Mikuro dug his feet into the ground, raised his arms up over his face, and gritted his teeth. *There goes another pair of sneakers*--S-kun hammered him again and again until he slammed into the unforgiving walls of a nearby building. He wasn't sure where they were; some alley somewhere. At least S-kun wasn't trying to kill him in the middle of a park or something.  
  
He heard S-kun's delighted, psychotic child's laugh over him, but he kept his eyes shut and tried to regain his wind. "How pathetic, M-kun," S-kun taunted. "I seem to remember you were quite weak the other time as well, until I was about to kill Shuukaido. Perhaps I should call him out again?"  
  
"You vengeful bastard," Mikuro ground out. "Let it go!"  
  
"DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT IT!" Mikuro opened his eyes just in time to see S-kun level another blast at him; too late to put up shields, he could only brace himself and hope he could get through this fight alive.  
  
****  
  
Haruhiko gasped and dropped his spoon.  
  
His mother's back was to him, so she didn't notice his sudden silence; she kept on talking cheerfully about school and other parents and clothing. Haruhiko was glad of that. It allowed him to sneak out of the room without her ever noticing.  
  
He leaned against the wall and gasped desperately for breath. "Mikuro--" he groaned. "Oh Sarjalim, don't let Shion kill him before I get there. Please--"  
  
****  
  
Rin floated over his semi-conscious opponent and pursed his lips. "I'm disappointed, M-kun," he fluted, knowing the other ESPer could still understand him. "I really thought you were going to be harder to kill. Oh, well. This is still going to be fun. It's almost my curfew, so I'll make this short and sweet." Raising his hands, he prepared one last blast and flung it at M-kun.  
  
He put his hands over his face to protect his eyes as dust floated up to him. Annoyed, he waved it away and peered down at the hole he'd just created. His eyes widened, then narrowed.  
  
"Shuukaido," he murmured, and smiled.  
  
M-kun would be half-dead by now. Rin considered his choices. If M-kun died, that would hurt Shuukaido; that was his plan, wasn't it, to make Shuukaido suffer like he'd suffered? Sometimes he lost sight of that plan, like when Shuukaido was in front of him bloody and battered and so easy to kill, but now, he realized it would be better to back off now and see what happened. If M-kun was dead--good. If he wasn't, well, he'd just finish the job later.  
  
"See ya later, M-kun," he whispered, and teleported to his apartment complex.   
  
His mother was fixing beef and curry tonight, and he didn't want to miss it.  
  
****  
  
"Mikuro," Haruhiko breathed, laying the silver-haired boy down on the concrete. He fumbled for his cell phone and dailed 911 with shaking fingers, spoke to an operator with an equally shaky voice and requested an ambulance, then hung up and returned his attention to the figure lying quietly before him. Mikuro was blessedly unconscious, and no surprise, Haruhiko decided. He was bleeding from his mouth and various cuts on his body, and more than a few of his ribs were probably broken. As Haruhiko ripped strips from his shirt to put around some of his worse cuts, Mikuro's eyes fluttered and opened, and he let out a pained groan.  
  
"Shh," Haruhiko soothed him, pressing a piece of cloth to a gash on Mikuro's forehead. "I've called an ambulance. You'll be fine."  
  
"Little bastard," Mikuro gritted out, his lips tugging upward in a smile. He caught Haruhiko's wrist as it moved back from his head. "I'm thinking--you're going to go blame yourself while I'm at the hospital," he said.  
  
Haruhiko's eyes filled with tears and he nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak.  
  
"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Mikuro said, leaning back against the concrete, his eyes drifting closed. "You're only responsible for your own actions.... so how can you blame yourself for Shion's?"  
  
Haruhiko swallowed harshly and drew Mikuro's hand tightly to his chest. "Arigatou," he whispered thickly.  
  
The sound of ambulance sirens roared in the background.  
  
****  
  
The phone rang, and Tamura hurried to pick it up.  
  
"Hai, Matsudaira residence," he said breathlessly, getting it on its seventh ring.   
  
"T-Tamura-san?" He would recognize that gentle, quavering voice in his dreams, Tamura thought fondly, crouching on the floor to talk to Haru-chan more comfortably.  
  
"Haru-chan," he said warmly. "How are you? Are you better? I was pretty worried about you for a while, there."  
  
"I-I'm fine. But Mikuro-kun--" Haruhiko swallowed audibly. "Shion's hurt Mikuro-kun," he said miserably. "I'm at the hospital. I don't know what he'll do next, so please, Tamura-san, come back where I can watch you--?"  
  
"Has he threatened you?" Tamura broke in, tightening his hand on the phone. Damn that brat--  
  
"N-no, but--"  
  
"I'll be over, Haru-chan. I'll be right over."  
  
****  
  
Haruhiko had just leaned his head back against the hospital wall when a polite voice inquired, "Kasama-kun?"  
  
Haru straightened quickly, settling his hands on his knees and clasping them tightly together so that their trembling didn't show. The doctor in front of him was a young woman, dark hair pulled in a haphazard bun on her head and her glasses falling down on her nose. Haruhiko quailed inwardly as he recognized the dark splatters on her white coat as blood. "Hai," he said, swallowing around the tightness in his throat. "Is M-Mikuro going to be all right?"  
  
"He's going to be fine," she soothed. She kneeled so that their faces were at the same level and then wrapped his hands in hers, offering comfort. "I'm Dr. Kawasaki, and I was the attending physician on your friend. He was very badly beaten up, but it's nothing that we couldn't fix, and the worst wounds are ones that time will heal on its own. He had two broken ribs and five others were bruised, which will be quite painful for a while. His left elbow was also broken, but we've set it, and it will be as good as new in a matter of weeks. We were most concerned about his head wound--we feared it might be a skull fracture, at first--" She smiled reassuringly when Haruhiko drew in his breath. --"But it's just a very strong concussion. He'll wake up with a splitting headache, but sufficient amounts of aspirin and other painkillers should do the trick. We'll keep him for a few more days, just to make sure he really is fine and isn't hiding any internal injuries, but I think he'll be all right. Do you have questions, any at all?"  
  
"May I see him?" Haruhiko inquired softly.  
  
Dr. Kawasaki pursed her lips, then softened them with her next exhalation. "I don't see why not," she replied with a good-natured shrug. "He's sort of groggy right now--he's pretty much drugged to his teeth. First, though, do you know of any relatives that I can contact?"  
  
Haruhiko hesitated. "He has a brother," he finally said, "but I don't know his first name. I'm sorry....."  
  
"Oh, no matter." Dr. Kawasaki smiled. "We know his last name, so if we do some research, we'll find his family in no time. He's up on the second floor, Room 53, all right?" She smiled kindly at him, then tactfully left him to his own devices. Haruhiko made his way slowly to the second floor, not bothering to use the elevator, trying not to get lost. He was used to the smell of blood and medicine, as well-acquainted with hospitals as he was, but it still stirred his stomach, and he looked uncomfortably away from the rows of patients in their beds, feeling like an intruder.  
  
He stopped in front of Mikuro's room to steady himself against the doorframe, then took a relaxing breath and walked in. Mikuro was alone, his soft breaths catching ever so often, loud in the cold, empty room. Haruhiko stood by his bed and watched him doze a drug-induced sleep. Mikuro's skin was pale and, when Haruhiko hesitantly picked up his hand and held it, cool--almost as if he were dead.  
  
"Good thing for you I'm not," Mikuro murmured, and Haruhiko started.  
  
"M-Mikuro-kun!" he stammered, and looked around the room for something to sit down on. He pulled up a swiveling chair and sat down beside the bed, still holding Mikuro's hand. "Are you all right? I didn't wake you up, did I?"  
  
Mikuro waved off his concerns with a snort, his eyes finally coming open. Haruhiko had never really noticed their color before, but now, without Mikuro's usual standoffishness to prevent close contact, he saw that they were a deep, dark grey. Haruhiko sighed, letting go of the older boy's hand. "I'm so sorry," he said softly, and again, Mikuro snorted.  
  
"I knew it the instant I saw you, standing in that aquarium with that look on your face...." Mikuro said, voice slow, as if he would stumble over the words if he went too quickly. "You've got a martyr complex... a mile wide."  
  
Haruhiko's eyes widened, then he dropped his eyes, an embarrassed flush heating up his cheeks. Mikuro's dry chuckle made him look up again. "So unsure of yourself. You're.... a good kid. Take a little pride in yourself."  
  
Haruhiko shook his head. "There's nothing about me to be proud of."  
  
"I used to think that way about myself..... when I was a kid," Mikuro said, and something about his tone made Haruhiko listen, so uncharacteristically serious was it. "I... was adopted, you see. My real mother didn't want me. She thought my ESP was a curse." He took a deep breath and bit his cheek around a wince. "My adopted mother.... and my adopted brother.... treated me right. They made me feel.... loved. It wasn't enough, though. I started to feel like.... my ESP defined who I was. That without it I was nothing. So... I used it too much." He smiled at Haruhiko. "I overextended myself.... had to stay in the hospitals too much. That was when my mom and brother started to get interested.... in ESP. They saw what I was doing to myself. I was lucky. People I cared about... stopped me from destroying myself. So.... now I'm not defined by my ESP. There are other things about me that I'm proud of. My.... overwhelming intellect, for instance. Somehow I think.... you didn't get what I got. And now here's that Shion kid. Reinforcing all the bad images you had.... of yourself. You are not Shuukaido, Haruhiko. Just like you're not.... strictly an ESPer. Sure.... Shuukaido's still in you. Otherwise.... well, you wouldn't have learned anything, would you have? But that's all it is. Learn from.... your past mistakes. But this is a new life now. Don't.... let your past life...... define this one."  
  
Haruhiko started as Mikuro grasped his hand, his grip strong despite the pain evident in his voice. Haruhiko stared at their entwined hands and felt an undefinable emotion welling up, clogging up his throat and filling his eyes with tears. He blinked them away steadfastly. "Mikuro...." he murmured. "This life is more than a learning experience. It's my chance to make up for everything bad that I did."  
  
Mikuro rolled his eyes heavenward. "You're pretty dense, Haruhiko. What a depressing thought. That... all of our lives are nothing more than penance for.... the mistakes we've made? Constant penance. Going through the motions, each life, trying to find a forgiveness.... that will never come. By that reasoning, you don't have to work to make this life right.... you'll just pay for messing it up in your next life. I like to think.... we're worth more than that. All of us." He snorted. "And I'm usually such a nihilist. You... bring out the best in me.... Haruhiko."  
  
This time he didn't try to blink the tears back; they flowed down his cheeks freely, and he didn't bother wiping them away. "Mikuro-kun," Haruhiko said brokenly. "I'm glad there's someone I've made happy."  
  
Mikuro frowned. "You think... I'm the only one? What about.... Tamura? He's so.... devoted to you, I think it's kind of weird..... or I thought, anyways, until I met you myself. And what about.... your parents? And the moon scientists? All of them are a bit better.... just for having met you. No one brings..... all evil into the world. Everyone..... brings a little happiness, a little joy, a little peace. Even the scum.... of the earth.... love someone and are loved."  
  
Haruhiko shook his head mutely. "Not me."  
  
Mikuro's grip on his hand tightened. "Especially you."  
  
Haruhiko took a deep breath to calm himself and began to speak, but a gentle knocking at the door interrupted them. Then the knocking came louder, and a voice said loudly, "Hey, Mikuro, you awake?"  
  
"He's awake," Haruhiko called out. "Come in."  
  
The door creaked open, then creaked closed. A man--presumably Mikuro's brother--stepped into the light. Haruhiko could see instantly that they were not related; the man was golden-skinned and dark-haired, while Mikuro was pale-skinned and pale-haired. He was cheerful to Mikuro's dour, as was evidenced by the relieved grin that split his face. "From the way Tamura sounded on the phone," he said cheerily, leaning against the bed and crossing his arms, "I thought you might be dead, Mikuro!"  
  
"Wouldn't that just..... thrill you so," Mikuro said dryly.  
  
The smile remained firmly fixed in place; Haruhiko sensed only the bantering of affectionate siblings between the two rather than any real malice. "So cruel!" the brunet exclaimed, and turned to Haruhiko. "Kasama Haruhiko, right?" he said, holding out a hand. Haruhiko accepted it. His grip was firm and warm, but not overwhelming, and Haruhiko's hand was released quickly. "I'm Yakushimaru, Mikuro's big brother. Hokuto's my first name," he grinned, "but no one ever uses it. I forget it sometimes, myself."  
  
"All of that is just evidence.... of his daunting intelligence," Mikuro cut in before Haruhiko could say anything.  
  
Yakushimaru clasped a hand to his heart and affected pain. "Your cruel words wound, Mikuro." Then he grew serious. "I'll have you know Mom's hyperventilating at home. I convinced her to wait to see you until you came home; you know she hates hospitals. Whatever possessed you into getting into a fight with another ESPer, I've no idea....." Yakushimaru shook his head mournfully. "Oh well."  
  
"It was my fault," Haruhiko intervened quickly. "It was my fault that he got hurt. I offer my most sincere apologies." He bowed as best he could; in doing so, he missed the significant look Yakushimaru gave Mikuro. When he looked back up, Yakushimaru was looking only at him, expression thoughtful. One finger tapped the side of his mouth.  
  
"Well....." Yakushimaru said after a pause. "Well.... I think Mikuro thinks otherwise. Kid, you're not responsible for all the evils in the world, you know? Mikuro got himself into this, and any injuries he obtains are on his own head, and I'm not gonna accept excuses." He leaned over and rapped Mikuro sharply on the head. "Hope they fixed whatever damage you did to your brain, ehh?"  
  
Mikuro glared at him.  
  
Yakushimaru picked up the clipboard at the end of Mikuro's bed and studied it with the air of a professional, lips pursed. "Whoo!" he finally said, flipping to the last page. "He sure did a number on you! I've seen gangsters in better condition than you, Mikuro."  
  
"Isn't he observant," Mikuro said to the wall.  
  
Haruhiko stood up. "Anou--Tamura-san will be by later to see you," he told Mikuro, whose eyes turned to him. "Thank Sarjalim, he finally came into town where I can keep an eye on him. But I'd better go now."  
  
Mikuro nodded. "If you have any more trouble with Shion--" his lips quirked. "Call me."  
  
Haruhiko hesitated, then smiled uncertainly. "May I... come by later?"  
  
"Of *course*," Yakushimaru drawled before Mikuro could reply. "Mikuro would be more than happy to see you stop by, eh, Mikuro?" He winked at his brother.  
  
"Urusai na, Hokuto."  
  
Haruhiko felt suddenly that he had missed a very important part of the conversation from the way Yakushimaru was looking at him. Even so, he gave a half-bow and murmured, "I'll try to stop by. Thank you very much, Mikuro-kun." Glancing back at Mikuro, who watched him with half-lidded eyes, he slipped out the door and into the corridor of the hospital.  
  
Yakushimaru fixed Mikuro with a gimlet stare and gave a low whistle. "Boy, Mikuro. He's got you wrapped around his finger, doesn't he?"  
  
Mikuro sighed. "You wouldn't know anything about it."  
  
"I know when my baby brother has a crush!" Yakushimaru's face grew serious. "But really, Mikuro, don't you think there's just a *little* danger in getting too deeply involved with the kid?" He gestured helplessly around himself. "I know I said otherwise earlier, but it *is* because of him that you're in here. As an older brother.... I've got to tell you to stay away from him."  
  
"Your advice... is duly appreciated." Mikuro sighed. "But I can't help it. I really want to.... kick that S-kun's ass."  
  
Yakushimaru stared at him, then sighed. "Okay.... okay.... I get the point. 'Leave me alone, Yakushimaru,' that's what you're trying to tell me. Well, all right. But just call me or Mom if you need something, okay?"  
  
A ghost of a smile tugged at Mikuro's lips. "I'll do that."  
  
****  
  
Haruhiko curled up into fetal position on his bed, his eyes fixed on the far wall. Behind him, his mother gave a quiet sigh and patted his shoulder. "Good night, Haruhiko-kun," she said quietly, and left the room, shutting the door and turning off the lights behind her.  
  
She descended the steps slowly, perplexed. Haruhiko had been acting so strangely lately; she couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. For once, his health was better... he was back in school, making friends... He had been so melancholy ever since Tamura-san had left. He had been in the hospital for just a little bit a few weeks ago and ever since he had come home, he had been acting so differently. She paused and leaned on a kitchen counter, feeling like her small world was spinning out of her control.  
  
She raised her head when the doorbell rang, a solitary chime in the quiet of the house. She went over quickly to it and opened it, her eyes widening and a smile gracing her face. "Tamura-san!" she said happily, letting him in. He gave her a nod and a smile and slipped off his shoes.  
  
"I'm sorry it's so late, Kasama-san," he apologized, but she shook her head.  
  
"Oh, that's all right. Are you here to see Haruhiko-kun? He's been acting so odd lately.... I think seeing you would do him some good." She shook her head sadly. "He's up in his room."  
  
Tamura smiled gratefully at her. "Thank you, Kasama-san." He ascended the stairs and paused before knocking on Haruhiko's room, a frown of worry furrowing his brow. Then he said, "Haru-chan? It's Tamura," and the door opened beneath him.  
  
"Tamura-san," Haruhiko said quietly.  
  
****  
  
Tamura sat on Haruhiko's desk chair and watched the teenager fidget, playing first with an imaginary thread on his tee shirt, and then clenching and unclenching his hands and watching the play of muscle there. "I saw Mikuro-kun...." Tamura said, sipping the tea Haruhiko's mother had brought up for him. "He's looking better than what I had thought."  
  
Haruhiko glanced up, his face incredulous. "Better?" he said, and frowned. "Tamura-san, Shion nearly killed him. I thought he might....." He bit his lip and turned his face to the ground.  
  
Tamura gave a dry chuckle. "I wasn't too concerned, Haru-chan. If Mikuro-kun is anything like his brother, he won't die so easily. S-kun will have to try harder."  
  
"Shion won't get another chance," Haruhiko said. Tamura paused at the firmness of his tone.  
  
"Why's that, Haru-chan?" he said gently.  
  
Haruhiko looked down at his hands, clenched tightly together in his lap. The skin over the joints was turning white. "I won't let him," he said with a small shrug.   
  
Tamura set down his tea and said concernedly, "Haru-chan--"  
  
"No, Tamura-san, listen to me," Haruhiko interrupted, and Tamura subsided, surprised. "I won't allow him to hurt either of you anymore. Mikuro is right... I have to accept the consequences of my own actions. I won't take Shion's burden on my shoulders, but I won't let him hurt you, either!" He gave Tamura a fierce look. "Tell Mikuro to stay away from S-kun."  
  
Tamura settled back in his chair, regarding Haruhiko in a new light. He'd known the kid had some guts, of course; he'd never doubted Haruhiko. But what a time to get a backbone. "I won't do that," he said simply.  
  
Haruhiko frowned. "W-why not?" he said.  
  
Tamura shrugged. "What Mikuro does is his own business," he said. "And he's decided to fight S-kun. I can't stop him."  
  
"Tamura-san," Haruhiko pleaded, "do you want him to die?"  
  
"No, of course not, Haru-chan. Mikuro's a good kid. But it would be unfair to say to him, 'You must stop this.' Mikuro has his own mind. And, Haru-chan.... S-kun has to be stopped," Tamura said gently. "For his own sake as well as our own."  
  
Haruhiko sagged visibly at his words. "Tamura-san...."  
  
Tamura got up from his seat and went over to his young friend, kneeling before Haruhiko and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Haru-chan," he said, voice low and grave. "You are like a brother to me. No, you're like a son to me. I've taken it upon myself to take care of you, because I care about you and can't stand seeing you hurt." He squeezed Haru's shoulder. "For whatever reasons, Mikuro has decided to protect you, as well. We can be a team. Na, Haru-chan?"  
  
Haruhiko looked up slowly, letting Tamura see the vivid violet of his eyes. He blinked. "Tamura.... san."  
  
Tamura let him fall into his arms and settled the dark head on his shoulder, smoothing a few random locks and rubbing his back. Haruhiko shuddered against him. *Ah, Haru-chan*, he thought sadly, *you're a good kid. A good kid. Mikuro and I will take care of you.  
  
*I promise, Haru-chan. We won't let S-kun hurt you.*  
  
Somewhere in the hospital, in his dark room, Mikuro's eyes drifted open. He turned his head to look at the glow of the moon through the window, and very slowly, he smiled.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
